


wishing for rain as I stand in the desert

by stylesoftheshire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Sexual Content, idk i don't like to over tag things lol, it's bottom harry though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesoftheshire/pseuds/stylesoftheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I don’t cheat,’ Louis murmurs, but even now he isn’t pushing away.</p><p>‘I know,’ Harry replies, his fingertips pressing lightly to the small of Louis’ back.</p><p>‘Me and her. We’re on a break,’ he says, and his hands are slipping down Harry’s body, catching at the top of his jeans. ‘It’s not cheating.’</p><p>Harry draws in a shaky breath, hypersensitive. ‘I know.’</p><p>(Louis is moving out of the flat he shares with Harry because Eleanor thinks they're too co-dependent. Harry can't let him leave.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	wishing for rain as I stand in the desert

**Author's Note:**

> you probably don't need telling this but the title is taken from the ron pope song 'drop in the ocean'

Harry has been preparing himself for this for weeks, but seeing Louis carry the last box out of his bedroom hurts just as much as the first.

‘Are you really sure?’ he asks in a small voice from where he’s curled up on the sofa. Their sofa.

Louis sighs. ‘Harry, we’ve been over this a hundred times.’

Harry hugs a cushion to his chest. ‘Yeah, I know. Guess I’m just not ready to live on my own.’

Louis’ face softens and he places the box he’s holding on the floor. ‘You’ll manage, you were always the one keeping this place in shape anyway.’ He sits on the coffee table in front of Harry. ‘Your new place is near Zayn’s anyway, I can get him to check in on you,’ he jokes.

Harry wants to say that it’s Louis he wants to be near but he doesn’t.

‘Yeah, I’m sure he’ll love that,’ he retorts instead.

Louis gives him a look. ‘If I tell him to keep an eye on you, he will,’ he assures. ‘You know, if you just stayed here then you’d be closer to my new place and I could keep an eye on you myself.’

Harry knows this. It’s on his list of pros and cons that he drew up over whether or not he should stay here. Naturally, there’s only one con. 

Every inch of this flat is ‘Harry and Louis’ and, even though he knows they’re no less best friends, it just wouldn’t be right to be here without him. The air in this place is heavy with all the almost chances Harry had to tell Louis how he really felt. Every room carries a memory of their domesticated life together, Harry donning the ludicrous apron Louis bought for him to wear whenever he made them dinner and Louis hovering behind him asking if he’s sure that’s the right way to stir it.

Louis always made retching noises after the first mouthful, but his eyes twinkled and Harry would beam as he watched him wolf down every last bite, feigning disgust when Louis would burp in his direction. ‘You’re gross!’ he’d say, but he knew his delight was written all over his face. ‘Grossly endearing,’ Louis would reply and Harry would shake his head and watch Louis’ arse as he carried the plates to the kitchen.

They used to do the washing up together too, making it more of a game as they whipped each other with tea towels and splashed water in each other’s faces, laughing themselves silly and usually breaking at least one plate. They hadn’t done that in a while though, Harry having stopped joining him at the sink sometime soon after Louis had first said he thought they should get their own places. He couldn’t bear to carry on living in his sickly sweet delusion of a home life when he was aware of the countdown, ticking, ticking, ticking. 

He didn’t say any of this to Louis though. He told him it was because this place was just too big for one person.

Harry blinks, realising he hasn’t said anything, but Louis isn’t even sitting in front of him anymore. He eases himself to his feet and makes his way to the front door where Louis is standing, fiddling with his keys. He watches as Louis removes their house key from the clutter of cheesy keyrings and stares dumbly when it’s held out to him.

‘But you’ll still need it,’ he says. His tongue feels so heavy. ‘You haven’t got all your stuff yet.’

Louis considers him for a moment and then the key, looking uncharacteristically pensive before plastering a grin on his face. ‘Nah, best give it to you now else I’ll forget. You’re not leaving for a couple days anyway so you can just let me in to get the rest.’

Harry nods automatically and reaches out with numb fingers to take the key, fumbling with his own set and sliding it onto the ring. Their keys line up perfectly, identical, and he holds them in his palm so they lie next to the souvenir keyring from when they all went to Alton Towers. The picture is of all of them on a rollercoaster, but Niall’s half hidden by Zayn’s hand and Liam and Zayn’s faces are blurred, so it’s really just a picture of him and Louis, sitting at the front as Louis always insisted on. He sighs.

‘Louis,’ he starts, and when he looks up Louis is looking at the keys in his hand as well. ‘I don’t think I can live alone.’

He says it like that but what he wants Louis to understand is that he can’t live in a place that Louis doesn’t call home as well, a place where he isn’t a constant presence. He doesn’t want to live somewhere where he doesn’t have to pick up Louis’ socks on a daily basis despite him rarely wearing them. He wants someone to cook for and he wants that someone to be Louis.

‘Harry,’ Louis breathes and there’s a flicker of something that Harry grasps hold of desperately.

‘Don’t go,’ he begs. He’s said it so many times already. ‘Please, Louis.’

Louis looks torn but he says the same thing he’s been saying for weeks. ‘I have to. I have to make things work with me and El.’

Harry’s throat tightens like it always does when Louis says her name. ‘But, Lou…’

‘I know, I know,’ Louis dismisses. ‘But we’re only on a temporary break so we can sort ourselves out. Get myself some space so we can give it another go.’

Harry hates hearing Louis talk about her, about how he’s trying to change himself to suit her better. He has said as much a few times before, but Louis always said it wasn’t that he was changing, he was just growing, and apparently Eleanor didn’t think that his co-dependency with Harry was conducive to a healthy relationship.

Personally, Harry thinks that’s bollocks. He’s fully aware that people around him have picked up on the way he folds into Louis and he’s almost 100% sure that Eleanor feels threatened. It would make him feel smug if he felt like she had any reason to be, but the truth was that as much as Louis might act like he’s interested, it’s always Eleanor in the end.

There were times when he dared to read into the lingering hugs and the fondness in Louis’ eyes, but then Louis would come home with Eleanor on his arm or they would split up for a couple weeks in which Louis would become distant and make no hint that Harry might be the reason, and Harry would convince himself backwards, cursing his own knot of feelings for getting in the way of his judgement.

Louis is double-checking more of his boxes and Harry takes the time to watch him, to soak up the way he holds himself, his quick, little movements and how his clothes hug him just right. His hair is unstyled today and silky-soft from the berry shampoo Harry bought him this one time because it was on offer and ever since Louis has insisted that he get the same one. 

Who will buy Louis’ shampoo for him now? It’s a ridiculous thing to worry about, but he always forgets to get it himself. There’s always a day when he’ll come out of the shower smelling like Harry’s apple shampoo instead because he didn’t realise he had run his own bottle right down. Harry supposes Eleanor will keep a bottle of her own nauseating flowery shampoo in Louis’ new bathroom when they get back together officially. Harry doesn’t look forward to the day when he’ll know Louis forgot to buy his own shampoo because he’ll smell like her. A ridiculous thing to worry about.

Harry wonders if Louis will miss the apple shampoo. The apple shampoo was always there for him but now he’s choosing a stupid flowery shampoo over the apple shampoo and it shouldn’t hurt this much but it does.

(‘So you’re picking her over me?’ Harry said a few days after Louis made his intentions known.

Louis looked at him dumbstruck. ‘What?’

Granted, Harry had paused their game of FIFA to ask him this, but he couldn’t concentrate with this black cloud over him.

‘You’re putting her before me.’ It was a statement this time.

‘Harry…’ 

‘No, never mind.’ Harry shook his head, feeling childish. It was just hard being in love with your best friend, but he wasn’t the only one in the world. ‘I understand.’

He unpaused the game, but Louis paused it again.

‘I’m not choosing her over you,’ he said softly. ‘I’m doing this so I can keep both of you in my life.’

Harry wanted to believe him, but he saw a shadow shifting over his face and it settled in his bones like a sickly chill which still hasn’t left him.)

Louis is slipping his shoes on now and it feels so final. It’s silly really because he’ll be back tomorrow or even in a few hours to pick up more stuff and maybe he’ll stay for dinner. Even if he doesn’t, they have the same circle of friends and they’ll always be best friends, but it still feels like he’s losing something he only just had by the fingertips.

Harry just feels so unbearably sad. Louis doesn’t want to live with him anymore because he has a girlfriend, that’s the bare bones of the matter. It’s like reality giving him a kick up the arse, reminding him that it’s useless pining over someone who sees you more as a brother especially when they love someone else. Love. What a load of crap. Fat lot of good it ever did him.

Harry shakes himself. Christ, he sounds pathetic, like the woman at the start of a film who only knows the burn of unrequited love. He never used to be like this, he used to hold his hope to his chest like a candle against the wind, feeling its warm glow and letting it soothe him. He used to believe in the future and what part Louis would play, and before he met Louis at uni he used to be the soppiest romantic in his group of friends, bleating on about falling in love and living happily ever after.

He isn’t unreasonable though. He knows he’s still young, still on the right side of 25 with plenty of time to meet someone else, but right now he doesn’t care. Bitterness leaves him short-sighted.

He watches Louis’ shirt ride up as he stretches to pull down a bowl from a cupboard. It’s the one they use for popcorn when they have their movie nights. 

(Louis bought it on his way home from Sainsbury’s. He only meant to pick up milk and eggs but he stopped at a charity shop and saw it in the window, claiming it reminded him of Harry immediately, so much so that, after he bought it, he backtracked to Sainsbury’s to buy a bag of microwave popcorn.

‘Honey, I’m home!’ he called, waiting for Harry to pop his head out of the kitchen. ‘And I’ve got a present for you!’

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Why is it when I send you out for groceries you always come back with a load of stuff we don’t need?’

Louis pursed his lips. ‘Does that mean you don’t want it?’

Harry dried his hands with a tea towel, smiling to himself. ‘I didn’t say that.’

Louis beamed at him. ‘Good,’ he said and then he whipped out the large plastic bowl, decorated with an assortment of kittens, puppies and bunnies. ‘Ta da!’

‘Really?’ Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

‘You love it,’ Louis said, thrusting the bag of kernels into his arms as well. ‘Don’t worry, you’re cuter than all of them put together.’ 

He probably could have popped the popcorn just by holding the bag close enough to Harry’s cheeks.)

‘Are you taking that bowl?’ he asks, leaning against the kitchen doorway. He sounds remarkably calm despite the tidal wave of emotions threatening to break his voice.

Louis turns and smiles easily. ‘Yeah. Unless you wanted it?’

Harry feels inexplicably offended. ‘But you bought it for me.’

Louis blinks at him obliviously. ‘I did?’

‘Yeah, you did.’ His words only tremble slightly.

At least Louis has the decency to look bashful. ‘Oh, sorry.’ 

He holds it out to Harry and he takes it, clutching it to his chest. It always smells faintly of popcorn, of evenings spent sharing a blanket, body heat and giggles with a best friend. 

‘You don’t remember?’ He knows he shouldn’t push it, but right now he feels like he has nothing to lose. He’s open, feeling more like Louis’ about to drop out of his life completely instead of just moving across town, but it’s what his departure stands for.

Louis scratches the back of his head, looking awkward, something he usually manages to hide. ‘It was years ago wasn’t it?’

‘Only a few,’ Harry mumbles, hugging it tighter. ‘It was in the first year we moved here, the year after I finished uni. Remember?’ 

He feels like he’s trying to prove something. He wants to make himself feel better by making himself feel worse, because if Louis can’t remember then maybe he isn’t as great as Harry thinks he is and he’ll be able to move on.

Louis tips his head to the side and looks off to the corner, his eyebrows going heavy as he concentrates. I’ll give it a few more seconds, Harry thinks to himself, and if he doesn’t remember then I’ll chuck the bowl at his stupid, beautiful head and tell him to fuck off.

Then Louis’ face smoothes out. ‘I was only meant to get milk and eggs,’ he says slowly, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Harry breathes out and smiles back at him. It’s a reflex that hurts. ‘Yeah. Typical of you.’

Louis comes closer, grinning. ‘You’re still cuter than all these critters,’ he says, tapping the bowl in Harry’s arms.

Harry is so weak when it comes to Louis. Sometimes he thinks loving Louis made him strong seeing as he was able to keep himself together around him, but he didn’t really, did he? There were parts falling away from him all the time, but Louis was still there to unknowingly press the pieces back into place. If Louis leaves, bits of him will keep coming apart only they’ll stay that way, separate from him. Harry is so weak when it comes to Louis.

He doesn’t understand why Louis is prying the bowl out of his arms and setting it aside until there are arms are wrapping around him and he realises that he’s crying into Louis’ shoulder.

‘Please don’t cry,’ Louis whispers, rubbing his back. ‘You know I hate it when you cry. Breaks my heart.’

Harry half-laughs and half-sobs, tightening his arms around his best friend. ‘You break my heart, Lou,’ he chokes. ‘Every time you packed another box you broke my fucking heart.’

He feels Louis stiffen in his arms and worries that he’s given too much away, but then Louis is running his fingers through his hair, easing out the tangles.

‘You’ll always be my best friend, you know that,’ Louis soothes. ‘We’ll have more to talk about now that we won’t be joined at the hip anyway.’

Harry feels a flare of anger but it goes away as quickly as it came. ‘We weren’t joined at the hip,’ he mumbles. ‘Not like we work at the same place.’

‘Yeah.’ Louis sighs. ‘I know.’

‘Is it because you’re sick of me?’

Louis’ hands freeze and he holds Harry out at arm’s length. ‘Don’t ever think that, Harry,’ he says sternly. ‘I could never get sick of you; I could spend every minute of the day with you and not get sick of you.’

Harry feebly tries to wipe his face, but Louis has hold of him by the arms so all he can do is sniffle pathetically. ‘Then why don’t you?’

‘You know why,’ Louis says and Harry peers through his puffy eyes to see a very exhausted Louis standing in front of him. ‘I have to do it for me and —‘

Harry is exhausted too, but he finds the strength to wrench himself out of Louis’ grip in time to interrupt him. ‘You and El, yeah I know,’ he says bitterly. He grabs the popcorn bowl from the side, wobbly legs attempting to march him into the living room and away from Louis because he can feel words bubbling to the surface that he still isn’t ready to say out loud.

‘Harry, don’t be like this,’ Louis says and Harry knows he’s following him. He never knows when to leave things alone. ‘I’d still put you first, you know you’re my best friend.’

Harry snaps easily and clean in two.

He spins around and throws the popcorn bowl against the wall with all his might. It doesn’t break.

Louis halts in his tracks, his eyes bugging. ‘What the fuck, Harry?!’

‘Fuck you, Louis!’ he shouts. ‘Fuck you and fuck Eleanor and fuck off because I never want to see you again!’

His chest is heaving and he doesn’t mean to say that last part except maybe he does. He’s almost vibrating with rage or something that resembles it, but Louis isn’t moving at all. He’s just staring at him, utterly shocked.

‘You don’t mean that,’ he says quietly. He walks over to where the bowl ricocheted onto the floor. Not even a crack. ‘You don’t mean that,’ he repeats as he sets the bowl down on the coffee table. He doesn’t look up, stares down at the bowl. ‘Harry, please tell me you don’t mean that.’

Harry’s still mad. Mad at Louis, mad for Louis, mad, mad, mad. ‘I don’t know,’ he says, because it’s the truth. 

Louis looks up and he’s crying. Harry realises he isn’t anymore. He also realises that there’s no middle ground. It’s either see Louis every day or not see him at all because Louis walking out of that door and into a new life with someone else means all of Harry’s chances that he was too scared to take have fallen down, dead.

‘Harry,’ Louis says, his voice breaking. ‘Why?’

‘Do you know how terrified I get sometimes?’ he says. ‘Knowing that just by saying a few words I could ruin everything?’

‘What?’ Louis asks. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Even now,’ Harry continues, like Louis never said anything. ‘Even now when I am literally about to watch you walk away, I am still too scared. Even though this could be it! I am still too fucking scared because I will cling to every tiny, pathetic shred of you that I can and if that gets taken away from me, then what? Then what will I do?’

Louis wipes at his eyes, looking confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

Harry finds himself staring at him incredulously. ‘Right. Right, okay.’

‘No, Harry, tell me,’ Louis says, but Harry holds his hands up.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he says. Defeated, that’s what this feeling is. Eroded. ‘I’ll see you when you pick up the rest of your things.’

Louis opens his mouth to protest, but then he closes it and rubs over his face. ‘Yeah, alright.’ He side-steps around Harry and heads for the front door again. He pauses with his hand on the door handle, back turned to Harry. ‘It’s for the best,’ he says, almost too quietly, but Harry hears. ‘I’ll miss you.’

Harry’s such a mess. ‘We’ll still see each other most days, idiot.’ He’s aiming for playful but his voice is too hollow.

Louis turns then, giving the flat a sweeping glance before fixing on Harry. ‘It’s not the same though, is it?’

There’s a lump in Harry’s throat. ‘No. No, it’s not.’

It’s not. It’s fucking not. It’s not the same and it will never be the same. Maybe it is for the best, but there’s a very good chance that it’s for the worst, and Harry is running, stumbling, falling into Louis and he’s crying again, maybe, begging him to stay again, definitely, feeling his heart breaking again and again and again.

‘Please understand,’ he’s saying, wishing Louis’ arms weren’t just hanging by his sides. ‘Please tell me I’m not crazy, please tell me I wasn’t making it up, please don’t leave me, Louis, Louis.’

His lips are useless at forming the words he wants to say so instead he does something he thought would happen in a much different setting. Maybe when they were snuggled in bed watching scary films or all those times when Louis would wipe Fairy liquid bubbles off of his nose, but not now, not when he’s not sure of the look in Louis’ eye, not when there are tears and god knows what else running down his face, this is not how he pictured their first kiss, but this is it.

It’s nothing great, it’s urgent and it hurts, but maybe that’s how it should be under the circumstances, and when Harry pulls away he presses his head into Louis’ shoulder, gripping him by the front of his shirt.

For a minute, the only sound is their laboured breathing, but Louis still hasn’t moved and Harry is beginning to feel like he’s clinging to a rag doll.

‘Say something,’ he whispers. Tell me I haven’t fucked it up for good, he thinks.

Gentle hands cup his face, gentle hands push him back, gentle hands, gentle eyes, gentle Louis, treating him like he would treat something he was worried about breaking.

‘We can’t,’ he says, gently, gently, but his face is a mask and that’s not really “no”.

Harry shakes his head, refusing for it to end this way. He loops his arms around him, pulling himself back in close, lining up their bodies, breath for breath. He could make their noses touch.

Louis’ eyelids flutter closed, his hands sandwiched between their chests like he’s about to push him away. Harry can feel the slightest pressure, but it isn’t enough to make him step back, not a thing in this world short of an alien attack could make him step away from Louis. His brain is in overdrive, his heart beating nineteen to the dozen, because if Louis didn’t want this at least just a little, then surely he wouldn’t still be this close.

‘I don’t cheat,’ Louis murmurs, but even now he isn’t pushing away.

‘I know,’ Harry replies, his fingertips pressing lightly to the small of Louis’ back.

‘Me and her. We’re on a break,’ he says, and his hands are slipping down Harry’s body, catching at the top of his jeans. ‘It’s not cheating.’

Harry draws in a shaky breath, hypersensitive. ‘I know.’

He feels Louis nod where their foreheads are touching followed by lips on his again, and this is how their first kiss should be. Soft and curious, the stubble on Louis’ chin grazing him gently instead of scratching him roughly, though it would be sweeter if Louis’ fingers weren’t edging down beneath the waistband of his jeans, sending Harry’s head spinning.

‘You want this?’ Harry asks, hardly daring to believe.

Louis’ hands are hooked down the front of his jeans and underwear, not moving, just the backs of his fingers pressed against the trimmed patch of hair. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes. ‘Here. In our flat.’

Harry doesn’t let himself think about what that might mean, that Louis might mean to leave anyway, one last memory they make together in their home before moving on to his pastures new. Instead, he fits his hands over the curve of Louis’ arse and pulls him in, feeling him half-hard against his thigh. 

‘Louis, I —‘

Louis kisses him again, shutting him up and shutting him down apart from the instincts borne from how he’s wanted to touch Louis in every filthily intimate way for far too long.

He moans into Louis’ mouth, pushing their hips together so Louis can feel how much he wants him. Louis pulls away breathlessly, sliding his hands around so he can grope at Harry’s bum under his boxers. ‘Can I?’ he asks in a hushed voice, squeezing as much as he can with how tight Harry’s jeans are.

‘Can you what?’ Harry’s mind is fuzzy and his skin is hot, too distracted to comprehend what Louis’ asking.

‘Let me,’ Louis whispers, palming at Harry’s arse purposefully.

‘Fucking hell,’ he says in a low voice, curving his spine to push himself back into Louis’ hands. ‘Yeah. Louis, please.’

Louis kisses him one more time, hard and hungry, before removing his hands and lacing their fingers together so he can pull him toward the bedrooms. His own room is bare, no sheet on the mattress, no pillows to stop a head banging against a headboard, so he leads them into Harry’s room instead.

Harry lets himself be pushed up against the wall, Louis’ sturdy little body holding him in place as he tips his head to the side and lets Louis kiss up to behind his ear whilst slipping off his shoes.

‘Have you done this before?’ he whispers against his earlobe. ‘With a guy?’

Harry shakes his head, gripping Louis’ waist. ‘Not with an actual guy.’

Louis hums and kisses down to his shoulder, tugging aside the collar of his t-shirt. ‘Actual guy?’

Harry doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed, but he doubts enough blood is available to make him blush. Sure, he’s slept with girls before, but he hasn’t slept with someone who would just be a substitute for the only man he could imagine touching him in that way. Needless to say, that didn’t stop him from ordering himself a little something online, telling Louis it was stuff for work when it arrived in its unassuming plain, brown packaging.

When he doesn’t answer, Louis pulls back a little and his face has changed into that mischievous one he wears, only his eyes are still dark and his lips are pinker. ‘You’ve got a toy?’

Harry stammers half-sounds, not sure how he should reply, especially when Louis’ hands are roaming underneath his t-shirt, warm hands sliding from his stomach to his nipples and back. 

‘Thinking about you,’ he says shakily.

Louis smirks and ducks back in, kissing along Harry’s jaw and reaching to pull one of Harry’s hands away, positioning it between them instead so his palm is moulded around Louis’ dick. They both make a breathy sound, Louis dropping his head into the crook of Harry’s neck and Harry squeezing the shape of him through his jeans, reeling.

‘You can have the real thing tonight,’ Louis murmurs, grinding into Harry’s hand. ‘If you want.’

‘Yeah, I really want,’ Harry says, moving his hand along the length of him as Louis sucks a lovebite to his throat. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’

‘Shall we make it happen a little faster?’ Louis says, knocking Harry’s hand away so he can unzip his jeans, pushing them to the floor quickly before working on Harry’s. 

His hand brushes against Harry’s cock as he pops his flies and Harry feels like he’s flying, especially when Louis kneels down so he can peel off Harry’s jeans, his face right at crotch-level. The only thing between Louis’ heavy breaths and Harry’s dick is his black boxers, but it may as well be nothing when Louis leans in, nuzzling against him and inhaling. 

He feels his knees buckle but Louis’ hands are splayed high on his thighs keeping him pinned to the wall. He wants more, he wants Louis to pull him out and suck him down, but he also doesn’t want to disturb him. He can see that his eyes are closed, long eyelashes tickling the fabric of his underwear, his mouth parted slightly as he breathes him in. He lets out a little whimper that makes Harry’s stomach tighten.

‘You smell good,’ Louis mumbles, lips moving over Harry’s balls.

‘You can’t say things like that,’ Harry shudders.

‘Yes, I can,’ Louis replies, and he sounds like he does when Harry tells him he surely can’t live in the pigsty he calls his bedroom. ‘Take your top off.’

Harry’s fingers overshoot the hem of his shirt, pushing through Louis’ hair instead and Louis turns into his hip, practically purring. Berry shampoo.

When it’s clear Harry’s forgotten his original command, Louis slowly gets up from his knees, tugging Harry’s top off as he stands, throwing his own to the floor immediately afterwards. He makes to press their bare chests together, but Harry stops him by holding him at the hips, keeping him close but far enough so that he can look at him properly.

Hell knows he’s seen Louis in just as little clothing on countless occasions before, but none of those instances had quite the same context, no matter how hard Harry would fuck himself with his vibrator to the memory later that night.

He looks to Louis for permission, sees him watching him intently and licking his lips, and then runs one hand down the centre of Louis’ chest, splaying his hand to touch as much as he can. His skin is smooth apart from where his chest hair grows and where his nipples are pinched into little buds, and he tightens the grip he has with his other hand, thumb digging into Louis’ hipbone. As his hand moves lower, he turns it so he’s stroking with the backs of his fingers over his belly, feeling it tense under his touch.

‘Your body is perfect,’ he murmurs. 

He gulps, his hand still travelling south until it’s to the side of where Louis’ boxers are tented. Louis tips his head back and Harry curls his fist around him, his own dick filling out more when he feels how hard Louis is.

‘Can I suck you?’ he asks, mouth watering.

‘Fuck, like you need to ask,’ Louis groans, steadying himself with one hand against the wall behind Harry.

‘Shit,’ Harry mutters under his breath, dropping to his knees.

He’s very conscious of the fact his hands are shaking as he pulls the waistband of Louis’ boxers away from his body and gets a hand around the bare skin of his dick, using the other to push the boxers to his ankles, but when he looks up and sees Louis hanging his head down, watching him, he couldn’t care less.

He almost can’t tear his eyes away from Louis’ face, but then he puts his other hand on Louis’ thigh and feels him trembling and he can’t take it any longer, leaning forward to lick up the underside of his cock.

‘Oh,’ Louis gasps.

Encouraged, Harry licks another stripe, this time up the side, ending it by suckling on the tip, tasting what he imagined whenever he sucked on his own fingers as he lay in bed. He spends a while licking over him, getting it wet with his spit so his lips slide easily when he finally takes him back, sucking him down eagerly. Louis is hard and heavy on his tongue, the weight of it making him groan around him, echoed by Louis’ own noises as he tries to buck his hips forward. 

At first, Harry keeps him steady, but then he relents and stops bobbing his head, making Louis stumble forward slightly trying to chase his mouth. Harry lets himself be backed up as much as he can against the wall, Louis’ dick bumping his chin, and looks up with wide eyes until Louis moans softly in understanding. 

‘Christ, Harry,’ he whispers, pushing his cock past Harry’s swollen lips.

Louis scrunches his eyes up as he moves his hips and Harry’s eyelids fall closed, feeling a little cheated when he doesn’t go too deep, but on the next round he doesn’t hold back and Harry lets his mouth be filled up again and again as Louis fucks it. He gags a few times when Louis hits the back of his throat, but he goes with it, loving the way Louis makes those noises when he chokes, his own hand falling to his lap and pulling his dick out through the flap of his boxers.

He tugs at himself in time with Louis’ hips as they snap forward and his jaw aches but he doesn’t care. He loves the way Louis is using him, needing him, fuck.

He whines when Louis suddenly stops and pulls out, trying to follow it, but Louis threads his fingers into Harry’s hair and pulls to keep him back, circling the base of his cock with his fingers and squeezing tightly.

‘Don’t wanna come yet,’ he explains. ‘Still need to fuck you.’

Need. Harry needs to be needed.

‘Yeah,’ he says, struggling to get to his feet in the limited space between the wall and Louis’ naked body, rubbing up along the length of it with his cock still sticking out of his pants.

Louis’ breath hitches, holding his dick even tighter as Harry’s slides against him. Harry leans in, but Louis jerks to the side and makes quick work of getting Harry out of his underwear.

‘Bed,’ he orders, sliding his hand around to Harry’s arse and pulling them together, their cockheads touching each other’s stomachs. 

Harry’s lips brush Louis’ cheek and he kisses a line to his ear, getting himself a handful of Louis’ arse in each hand and squeezing appreciatively before walking him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls back, taking Harry with him.

For all that Harry is slender there’s still an awful lot of him and he forces the air out of Louis’ lungs when he lands on top of him. 

‘You fucking lump,’ Louis grunts, rolling Harry off of him, but his dick is still hard and Harry doesn’t worry that he’s killed the mood for too long.

‘Sorry,’ he grins, rearranging himself so he’s lying flat on the bed.

Louis kneels between his spread legs, pushing them apart even more before settling back on his heels and wrapping a hand around himself. 

‘I don’t think you are,’ he says, pumping his cock slowly. He licks his lips as his eyes settle between Harry’s legs and Harry feels his dick jump. He wants to touch himself so badly, but he gets the impression that Louis would only tell him off so he balls his fists into his duvet instead. ‘Christ, look at you,’ Louis breathes.

‘Look at you, y’ mean,’ he replies and his chest flutters when Louis ducks his head shyly.

It’s true though, if there’s one person anyone should be looking at right now, it’s Louis. His thick thighs are accentuated by the way he’s kneeling and his forearm is resting lightly against his hipbone as his wrist flicks, working his dick in such a way that would be casual if it weren’t for the way his eyes were raking over Harry’s body.

‘Do you have the, uh, stuff?’ he asks, slowing his hand right down.

‘Sounds like you’re asking me for drugs,’ Harry says even though it is a wildly inappropriate time to be making jokes. The look he receives off of Louis says just as much. He bites his lip to keep back his bashful smile and nods his head in the direction of his bedside table. ‘Bottom drawer.’

‘You’re a bottom drawer,’ Louis mumbles as he reaches over him and Harry fights the urge to tickle him.

‘That the best you can come up with?’ Harry asks, eyes fixed to Louis’ body as it stretches across and pulls back again.

Louis winks, setting the condom down and uncapping the lube. ‘You’ll see my best in a minute.’

Harry grins dopily at him and his heart flip-flops because Louis is going to give him his best and that’s all Harry really wants, the bits he has been denied up until now. It must show on his face, because Louis drops the almost comical predatory look he has been wearing and crawls up to kiss him tenderly. Harry breathes him in, untwisting his fingers from the sheets to hold him at the shoulder blades, stroking down to the dip where his back meets his arse when Louis’ tongue slips into his mouth. He feels like he could say it now, like as soon as Louis’ lips leave his he could tell him why he yelled and why he clung to him and why if Louis had left then it would’ve felt like half of him had walked away as well.

As soon as he thinks it, Louis is pulling away and returning to his position between Harry’s legs. He could say it now, but Louis is gently bending his knees so his feet are flat on the mattress. He could say it now, but Louis is spreading lube between his fingers and staring at him so intensely that he clenches involuntarily, watching Louis’ mouth fall open as he does so. He could say it now, but Louis is crouching forward, ghosting his lips over the tip of his dick before bending lower.

Louis kisses his hole and it’s so heart-achingly intimate that Harry almost wants to just stop and leave it at that, but then a slick finger is pressing into him and Louis is mumbling words he can’t hear into the crease of his groin and he lets his mind go blank, forgetting for now the things he wants to say.

He whines when Louis removes his finger, but then he’s tearing open the condom and rolling it onto himself before pushing two fingers inside again, curling them like he knows what he’s looking for and Harry wonders if he does and why he didn’t think to ask the same question Louis asked him.

‘Louis,’ he breathes, curling his toes.

‘Is it okay?’ Louis asks. He’s bent over again and when Harry looks down he realises that he’s watching his own fingers as they disappear inside him. The thought sends a shiver down his spine and he pushes himself down onto Louis’ hand. ‘Is that a yes?’

Harry half-laughs and half-gasps, going stock-still when Louis adds a third finger. Louis kisses his inner thigh as he adjusts, inching inward until he’s licking delicately around his stretched rim. Harry swears it wouldn’t take much to make him cry, but he keeps himself together as Louis fingers move faster and harder, his mouth migrating up to suck on his balls until he really can’t take it anymore and he’s begging.

‘Louis, please,’ he says, spreading his legs wider. ‘I’m ready, just, please.’

Louis slows his fingers down, keeping them inside Harry as he moves to hover over him, balancing on his other hand.

‘Yeah?’

Harry’s not even sure what he’s asking but he nods. ‘Yeah.’

The fingers are gone, but then there’s something thicker pressing against his hole and he holds his breath as Louis guides himself in. He’s bigger than Harry’s vibrator, but it’s so much better because it’s Louis, Louis who’s breathing heavily into his neck as he pushes in steadily, shoulders shaking like he’s as overwhelmed as Harry is. Maybe he is.

When he’s fully seated, Harry moves his hands into Louis’ hair, easing his head over so he can kiss him again. Their noses bump together and Harry accidentally kisses Louis’ teeth, but it’s perfect anyway.

‘Move,’ he whispers against Louis’ lips.

Louis nods and pulls himself upright a bit more so he can hold onto the headboard with one hand for leverage, before moving his hips out and back in. It isn’t much, but Harry hisses and digs his fingers into Louis’ sides.

Louis looks down at him, concerned. ‘Too much?’

Harry clenches his teeth and wills himself to relax, but it isn’t easy when everything he’s wanted for years is being offered up to him. ‘Yeah, no, it’s fine,’ he says. ‘Keep going.’

Louis’s eyebrows come together and he makes no move to continue until Harry steels himself and pushes his hips down, burying Louis that little bit deeper. It’s worth it to see the way Louis’ face changes.

‘Fuck, Harry.’ He pulls out a bit further and then fucks back in, cradling Harry’s arse with his hips. ‘Harry.’

‘Does it feel good, Lou?’ he asks.

‘So good,’ Louis murmurs. ‘You’re amazing.’ He uses his free hand to push one of Harry’s legs up, hooking it over his shoulder. ‘Alright?’

Harry waits for Louis to push in again, the new angle shifting something so that Louis rubs him in just the right place. ‘Oh god,’ he moans.

‘Yeah?’ Louis thrusts into him again, hitting him where he needs it on nearly every go.

Harry arches his back up off of the bed as much as he can, trying to pull Louis in deeper. The way he’s fucking him and the way he’s looking at him is driving him crazy, making something twist and ache in the pit of his belly, but there’s an ache higher up as well, in his chest, a constant question of is this enough to make Louis stay, is this the right thing to do, is this going to be worth it when he leaves anyway. He tries to push the thought away, but Louis’ free hand is on his chest playing with one of his nipples like he’s known all along that every time he did it before it wasn’t really a joke, at least not to Harry.

He’s thinking it, thinking he can say it now when they’re as close as they’ll ever be, but then Louis’ hand is around his dick and the words change as they come out of his mouth.

‘I love the way you fuck me,’ he says.

Louis rolls his hips diabolically. ‘Good,’ he says, short on breath. ‘’cause I love fucking you. You look so good like this, fuck, you feel so good. You’re so pretty too. So fucking pretty.’

Harry tips his head back into the pillow and whines, Louis’ hand working him right to the edge.

‘Not gunna last much longer,’ he mumbles, throwing his arms out to grip the edges of his mattress. ‘Fuck, don’t stop.’

‘Me neither,’ Louis pants. ‘You’re so… fuck, Harry. Wanna make you come on yourself.’

‘Oh god,’ Harry groans. ‘Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.’

‘Come on, Harry. Come for me, yeah? Make me so happy, Harry, come on.’

It’s all it takes and with one final flick of Louis’ wrist, Harry comes all over his own stomach, clenching tight around Louis who stops moving as he milks him through it.

‘Oh my god,’ Louis breathes, letting go of Harry’s cock to run a hand through the mess on his belly. ‘Oh my god,’ he repeats and then he’s snapping his hips forward again, throwing Harry’s other leg onto his shoulder as well and folding his spent body over, bending in close so he can kiss him roughly as he fucks him.

Harry’s too fucked out to respond properly, already blissfully lazy, and lets himself be used, enjoying the aftershocks despite the sensitivity.

‘Gunna come,’ Louis mutters into Harry’s mouth and then he’s pushing in one last time, going rigid as he comes, the look on his face something Harry wishes he could paint on the inside of his eyelids.

Harry sighs, so fucking content that the ache in his chest is just background noise to the buzz he’s feeling. Louis slumps onto him, letting his legs slide off of his shoulders, down his arms and safely onto the mattress. He’s peppering tiny kisses onto Harry’s neck as he rolls the condom off of himself, tying up the end and chucking it to the side.

‘Was that alright?’ he asks and Harry could almost laugh.

‘It was more than alright, you idiot,’ he says, smiling.

Louis rolls off of him and grins. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He yawns widely, shutting his eyes. ‘Knackered now though. Is it too early for bed?’

Harry watches him for a few seconds, his tanned skin slightly flushed and his soft hair sticking up at all angles. Perfect. He glances at the clock. ‘It’s only seven.’

Louis shrugs, turning over onto his other side, away from Harry. ‘Must’ve been my bedtime at some point.’

Harry swallows and nods even though Louis can’t see him. He decides to study the planes of Louis’ back, right down to the plumpness of his bum, but when he’s done that a few times he realises he can’t ignore the fact that Louis turned away from him. It’s not a big deal, he says to himself, it’s not.

‘Oi.’ A small, sleepy voice muffled by a pillow steals Harry’s attention. ‘I’m cold.’

Harry automatically reaches for the duvet that’s crumpled underneath their legs, but when he tries to pull it up, Louis’ legs mysteriously become surprisingly heavy. He tugs it a few more times before he realises with another one of those silly tummy-flips what Louis’ hint really meant.

He curls around Louis from behind, pressing his bare chest to Louis’ back. He holds him like he wants to keep him there forever, his hand flat against the softness of Louis’ stomach and his nose tucked into the fluffy hair on the back of his head. He could say it now, he thinks, but he’s too caught up in feeling Louis breathe, feeling their naked bodies fit together, feeling everything in case it’s his last chance.

‘Please, don’t leave,’ he whispers. ‘I love you so much.’

But Louis is already asleep.

Harry closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of berry shampoo, praying to whoever is listening that he won’t wake up alone.

-

Harry doesn’t need to open his eyes to know his prayer hasn’t been answered.

His skin is cold where Louis’ body has left him and he can feel nothing but empty space beside him. He sits up and stares down at the other half of the bed, willing himself to be able to see the shadow of where Louis used to be. 

When all that glares back at him is the wrenching sensation of abandonment, he removes himself from the room, putting whatever distance he can between himself and the bittersweet memories.

He drags himself through the barren flat, suffocated by the cardboard boxes and eerie silence that surround him. Each footstep makes him feel even heavier, which makes no sense when it feels like he’s losing pieces of himself the more he takes.

He stands staring at the front door when his legs won’t carry him anymore, thinking about how he held onto Louis there and how Louis probably left through it without a second look back.

He closes his eyes tightly and wills the lump in his throat to disappear so he doesn’t feel so choked. What he needs is a drink of water, something to flood it out so he can breathe again.

He moves slowly into the kitchen, plucking a glass from inside a hastily packed box.

That’s when he sees it.

A bright yellow sticky note on the fridge that wasn’t there the night before.

His heart starts thudding in his chest as he stumbles toward it, his eyes not willing to focus on the familiar scribble until his legs stop shaking.

‘We need popcorn, Sleepyhead.  
I’ll be back soon so don’t go anywhere.  
Lou x  
P.S. I love you too.’  



End file.
